The Guardian chosen by the Moon

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It had been a week since I left London, carried by the wind, wandering aimlessly. I felt neither hunger, nor thirst, nor fatigue. It was strange, as if my body no longer had any physical needs. And yet, something inside me cried out in longing—an absence I didn't fully understand yet. It was unsettling.

Instinctively, I still carried out human gestures—placing a hand on my stomach when I realized I hadn't eaten in days, searching for a comfortable place to rest before remembering that exhaustion never came. But the most frustrating part… was the solitude.

In the first few days, I wandered through cities, curious to see how the world reacted to my presence… or rather, my absence. Thanks to the internet and the media, my existence had been spread like a modern urban legend. "Jack Frost," they laughed, "the ice boy who fights alongside gods." And every time a child spoke my name with wonder, I felt stronger. More tangible. But the adults… they saw nothing, believed in nothing. I was a specter, a whisper in the wind.

And it was frustrating.

I tried talking to passersby, to make them understand that I was there. But all I got was silence—or worse, involuntary shivers when they walked through the icy air I unconsciously emitted. I found myself walking alone, invisible to the world, like a ghost without a tether.

One evening, as I sat on the rooftop of a building, watching the illuminated city beneath me, an overwhelming emptiness took hold of me. I wanted to laugh with someone, to talk, to share moments with others. But I no longer had that luxury.

So, I lifted my gaze to the crescent moon. It shone with a silver glow, silent and unchanging.

"You're the one who chose me, huh?" I murmured to the celestial body. "Why? Why me?"

No response. Just the wind brushing against my face, cold and soothing.

I could have sat there all night, drowning in my thoughts, but another idea crossed my mind—the children. I felt a deep need to bring them happiness, to offer them what I had lost: connection. But before I could do that, there was something urgent I had to do.

I needed to train.

I traveled to Alaska, far from cities, far from prying eyes. A place where snow ruled supreme, where the cold bit at the skin, yet where I strangely felt at home. The icy winds carried me across the snow-covered mountains, embracing me like an old friend.

Here, I could test myself. Understand the extent of my abilities.

I started by manipulating the snow. A simple flick of my staff, and flakes danced around me, forming intricate patterns. A whirlwind of frost rose at my command, spiraling before vanishing into the night.

Then, I tried something new. I reached out toward a tree, attempting to communicate with it, to listen to whatever it had to say. Frigga had told me I was connected to nature, but for now… nothing. Just the silence of the sleeping wood beneath the ice.

"You could at least say hello, right?" I joked, tapping the bark. Silence.

I insisted, closing my eyes, focusing on the slightest vibration, the faintest response.

A light breeze passed through the branches.

Maybe it was a start.

Next, I tested another aspect of my power—ice creation. Inspired by stories I had heard, I stretched out my hands and visualized an ice structure forming under my fingers. Slowly, translucent columns emerged from the ground, timidly reaching for the sky.

But it wasn't as impressive as I had hoped. The shapes were unstable, fragile, lacking the grandeur I had imagined. Unlike the legends of a certain snow queen, my creations had no will of their own. They were frozen, lifeless, like abandoned sculptures. But at least they held their shape.

"Not bad… but I can do better," I muttered, trying again.

After several attempts, I managed to create an arch of ice solid enough to stand without collapsing immediately. It was far from perfect, but it was progress. I realized then that, like anything else, mastering this part of my power would take time.

Several days of pushing my limits, something strange happened. I thought about my staff—what it truly was, what it represented. In my old world, it had no official name, but I remembered a term from books and the film that had always stood out to me.

Frustrated, I spun my staff in my hand. It had saved me more than once. I still remembered the moment I found it—or rather, when it became an extension of myself after my rebirth. And then… I remembered what the film had mentioned. Its name.

Twiner… No. Twinetender.

Softly, I murmured: "Twinetender."

At that precise moment, a vibration ran up my arm. My staff trembled slightly, then lifted on its own, pulsating with newfound energy.

I stepped back, startled. "Wait… are you doing this?"

Twinetender began to levitate, slowly spinning before settling gently in front of me. It didn't speak, but I could feel something—an awareness radiating from it.

"Wow…" I breathed, fascinated.

I burst out laughing. "So, you were asleep all this time?"

Without warning, the staff shot toward me, striking in a swift attack. Instinctively, I dodged, barely avoiding the blow.

"Oh, you wanna play it like that? Fine."

The training began. Twinetender attacked, and I had to dodge. It struck fast, relentlessly, forcing me to focus, to anticipate every move. The more I moved, the sharper my reflexes became. My body flowed like a gust of wind, light and untouchable.

But Twinetender wasn't holding back. It varied its strikes, pushing me further. The fight lasted for hours until, finally, we both stood still, facing each other.

A grin spread across my lips. "Alright. I think we're gonna make a great team."

The staff trembled slightly, as if in agreement.

As my breath steadied, I realized that night had fallen. Around me, an absolute silence reigned.

I looked down and discovered that I was standing at the center of a frozen lake. A strange unease crawled up my spine.

This scene… it reminded me of the night I died.

I slowly lifted my head toward the full moon, and suddenly, everything shifted.

A vision struck me like a lightning bolt. I saw a child, terrified in his bed, his cries muffled by the darkness engulfing him. Black sand swirled around, forming shifting shadows. Then, a figure emerged at the center of the storm—a dark silhouette with glowing golden eyes.

My heart clenched. A visceral fear settled in my chest.

Pitch Black.

I instinctively stepped back, feeling the ice crack beneath my feet.

He was here. He had come to this world.

A cold shiver ran through me, but it wasn't from the frost. For the first time since my arrival… I felt pure, undiluted terror.

And a certainty grew within me.

I wasn't the only one who had been transported here.